Again, the pause, the awkward feeling where we couldn’t get into stride. Two people with ankles tied together for a three-legged race, trying to find their rhythm. Except that didn’t usually take as long as it had taken us. My fault.

I was very aware of people looking at us. Crystal’s flight and landing had turned heads. I knew objectively that they were looking at her, but even if I could logically put two and two together, my traitorous brain told me they were staring at me when their eyes pointed in my direction, and they were averting their eyes from me when they weren’t.

I saw a woman in a sundress walking her dog, and I thought of a quiet voice outlining some warnings. No donating blood. Avoid any sources of healing that aren’t her, because the wrong source of healing could awaken latent materials that were used to rebuild this body. Stray dog. Stray cat. Rodents.

It made my stomach hurt. A constant gnawing feeling, hollowing me out. I was outside and active because I knew how easy it would be to do anything else. I stayed standing because I was already standing. I could keep from screaming because I hadn’t yet opened my mouth to scream. I went through my day because I hadn’t stayed inside with a blanket pulled over my head. I wore nice clothes because they were what I’d worn before, back when I’d either been Glory Girl or I’d been Victoria Dallon. I met with Crystal because I hadn’t yet cut myself off from the world.

“It’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?” Crystal asked, looking skyward.

I looked up at the blue sky. Summer heat beamed down on us, pulsing off of the concrete. I could put together the individual pieces, and say it was warm without being sweltering, the sky was clear, the city smelled like fresh wood and car exhaust, and a strong wind blew clean through the city. Clean like there were thick, rich forests just beyond the city boundaries, and the wind picked that up to refresh the city.

I could take all the individual pieces and I knew they were the sort of thing that added up to wonderful weather. I felt aware of every set of eyes in the vicinity, pointed at me or otherwise, including Crystal’s one visible eye, which was looking skyward, her hair sweeping over the other side of her face. Each one was a condemnation or penetrating stare. Each one implied emotions I didn’t want to deal with. I felt aware of the clothes against my skin, and how they hadn’t been washed enough times to lose the stiffness that came from being folded in a box or the trace chemicals after they were pumped out by a factory line.